Haunted
by FaItHzAnGeL
Summary: She tasted power beyond her wildest dreams, and it took over her completely. How can she cope with the sins of the past?


**Title:** Haunted  
**Author:** FaItHzAnGeL  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing:** none  
**Disclaimer:** They belong to Joss Whedon, if they were mine I'd never let Buffy go, *swoons*.  The lyrics are from the song 'Haunted' by Poe.  
**Improv:** #45 cinnamon – leather – dust – sway   
**Spoilers:** The last couple of episodes of season six, major spoilers for Grave.

**Feedback:** Yes please!  fivexangel@aol.com

**Distribution:** Improv Archive.  Anyone else, just ask and it's yours, :)

**Summary:** She tasted power beyond her wildest dreams, and it took over her completely.  How can she cope with the sins of the past?

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I killed him.

Flesh ripping past my eyes, with his reddened muscles, tendons, and all the other things that form the body – _God, the blood – were before my eyes, and I didn't even flinch.  __I, __me, shy, little-girl-lost, picture-of-innocence, __Old Reliable, Willow Rosenburg, didn't flinch.  _

I was in so much pain.  

God, Tara...  I miss her so much.  I long to be able to be in her arms, to hold her, to kiss her.  I miss the smell of her hair, and how when she kissed me, her lips tasted like sweet cinnamon.  I miss the way she use to smile at little nothings I'd whisper in her ear, and how she'd always managed to make me feel good about being me, just like I made her feel good when she thought she was less than the great being she was.  

I was in love.  

I was _happy.  _

Content.  

I would've given everything for her.

But he ripped her away from me.

I won't feel that anymore.

And _I killed him.  So filled with hate, and anger, and…I killed him.  I'm disgusting.  I've become everything I hate, everything I loathe._

I turned into Faith, leather-clad-bitch monger of death.

It's so horrible, this feeling inside...this dead feeling of hollow justice.  Did I think it would make me feel better?  Did I think it'd bring Tara back?  No, it was just _justice.  Ill placed, and __wrong justice._

I felt justified in everything, every moment that I inflicted pain, I was in _bliss.  Bliss from seeing the pain on his face, the fear...it was an evil, wild, __wrong rush.  _

It was like watching from a distance.

Part of me was horrified – _angry – at myself for turning into…this…this…__thing, this dangerous creature, not even remotely human now, so easy to sway into evil – how could anything that horrid be human?_

It was pure pain, grief, and I didn't want to deal with it.  

I didn't want to let Tara go, I was so _angry that they took her away from me.  Why did they take Tara, why is it my beam of light, my joy – __my __life -- was taken away and that horrible little troll got to live?_

I didn't understand.  I _couldn't understand what was happening, and I just __hurt.  I was broken when I couldn't bring her back, when they wouldn't __let me bring her back.  I wanted to end the pain, make it stop and there was Warren.  I soaked up all I could so that I could deal out justice, cause no other justice would be fair unless __I gave it._

But after I did it, I didn't change.  Nothing changed.  I was empty.  There wasn't satisfaction, or gratitude, or sense of justice…I wanted _more.  More rushes, more power, more everything.  I knew what real evil was; it was humanity.  Us.  I didn't care about love, or compassion, or any of the things I held so dear; I was pain._

I was so consumed with grief I even fought Buffy, told everyone the worst possible things…and I beat her.  I _beat Buffy.  You can spin that however you want, but I did.  And it's not anything to be proud of.  I'm certainly not._

Then I tried to end the world.  I would've done it too if it weren't for Xander.  How he could even stand to look at me…this horrible, dark, _nothing?  No matter how much I hurt him, no matter how much I tore into his flesh with bursts of energy, no matter how much I knocked him down he stood back up.  Looked into my heart, telling me all that I needed to hear, "I love you."_

Three simple words, with such a powerful force, that it drove all the hate, the pain, and the grief away.  I could've killed him; I could've ended the world.  I was a mess, a giant font of 'evil', for all intents and purposes, and he wanted to be with _me – the girl he'd grown up with, no matter what I looked like, no matter what I'd done – who I killed._

Because he loved me.  

Loved me unconditionally.

  
He held me as I cried, as I collapsed onto the ground, dust rising above as we just held each other, and I cried…about everything: the guilt washing over me, finally realizing everything I'd done, who I'd hurt...and I finally understood that there would be no Tara, and I'd never come home to her.  Never hold her in my arms, and I wailed.  I cried so hard, and Xander was there.  Buffy was there.  I wasn't alone; I was loved.

I have so much guilt, and baking cookies won't help.  This is the kind of evil that can't be taken back.  It can't be changed.  I'm a killer.  I killed a man in grief, under the veil of darkness and 'evil', seeking out justice of a crime that could never be rectified.  

I'm sorry, I truly am, and I can never forgive myself, or forget what I've done.  His eyes will haunt me, and I'll hear his screams.  But what's worse is that I remember the taste of power at my fingertips, to know I could take his life at anytime…

…and I _liked it._

That will haunt me forever.

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And I'm haunted   
By the lives that I have loved   
And actions I have hated   
I'm haunted   
By the lives that wove the web   
Inside my haunted head

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End file.
